Part 19 (1/2)
”It's all well enough for you fellows to pretend that you know what's going to happen when the quarter-back shouts a lot of numbers to you,”
observed Amy, hugging his knees and exposing a startling view of crushed-raspberry socks, ”but I'm too old a bird--no pun intended this time--to be caught. Besides, I played once for a couple of weeks, and I know that signals didn't mean anything to me.”
”Funny you didn't make a success of it!” chuckled Clint.
”The quarter-back just bawls out whatever comes into his head and then he tosses the ball to whichever chap looks as if he was wide enough awake to catch it and that chap makes a break at the line wherever he happens to think he can get through,” continued Amy convincedly. ”All this stuff about signals is rot. Now we'll see. Where's this play going?”
Clint listened to the signal. ”Full-back straight ahead through centre,”
he said.
”What did I tell you?” Amy turned in triumph. Clint laughed.
”Otis got the signal wrong,” he explained, ”and crossed in front of Martin.”
”Oh, certainly! Yes, indeed!” agreed Amy with deep sarcasm. ”Honest, Clint, I think you really believe that stuff!”
”I have to,” grunted Clint. ”Here it goes right this time.”
The signal was repeated and Martin dashed forward, took the pigskin at a hand-pa.s.s and went through the centre. Amy grunted. ”You just happened to guess it,” he said. ”Where are they going?”
”Over to scrimmage with the 'varsity. Come along.”
”Would you?” asked Amy doubtfully. ”Somehow I hate to see the 'varsity trampled on and defeated, Clint. Would you mind asking 'Boots' to be merciful today! Tell him you've got a friend with you who's soft-hearted and hates the sight of blood.”
Amy made himself particularly objectionable during the ensuing half-hour. The 'varsity was in fine fettle today and ripped the second team wide open for three scores in the two periods played. Amy pretended to think that every 'varsity success was a second team victory.
”There, that 'varsity fellow has taken the ball across the line, Clint!
Isn't that great? How much does that count for the second? Six, doesn't it? My, but your team is certainly playing wonderful football, chum.
What I don't understand, though, is the--the appearance of satisfaction displayed by the 'varsity, Clint. Why is that? Carmine is patting Kendall on the back just as if he had done something fine! I suppose, though, that they're so used to being defeated that they can pretend they're pleased! Let me see, that makes the score 13 to for the second, eh?”
”Oh, dry up!” laughed Clint. ”The 'varsity's having one of its good days, that's all, and we're playing pretty rotten. We have to let them win once in a while. If we didn't they might not play with us. There goes St. Clair in for Still.”
”I hear that Still is fairly punk this Fall,” said Amy. ”Too bad, too, for he was a dandy man last year. He had some sort of sickness in the Summer, Freer tells me. Still never said anything about it for fear he'd lose his place.”
”That so? I'm sorry for Still, for he's a nice chap, but that St. Clair is surely a wonder, Amy. He hasn't any weight to speak of, but he's the fastest backfield man they've got, with the exception of Marvin, maybe.”
”Well, I don't know much about the game,” said Amy, ”but it seems to me that Carmine is a better quarter than Marvin. He seems to have more ginger, don't you think?”
”Perhaps, but Marvin's a steadier fellow. More dependable. Handles punts a heap better. Knows a lot more football than Carmine. I like the way Carmine hustles his team, though. I reckon Marvin will have to get a hump on him or he'll be losing his job.”
”Which is the fellow who has your place, Clint?”
”The tall fellow on this end; just pulling his head-guard down; see him?”
”Yes. How is he doing?”
”Mighty well, I'd say,” responded Clint ruefully. ”He's playing better than I've ever seen him play all Fall. There he goes now! Let's see if he gets under the ball.”
Martin had punted, a long, high corkscrew that ”hung” well and then came down with a rush toward the waiting arms of Kendall. Captain Turner had got away with Robbins at his heels, but Lee, the other end, had been sent sprawling by Edwards, of the 'varsity, and Cupples, playing right tackle, was far behind the kick. Carmine dived at Turner as the ball settled into Kendall's arms, and brought him down, and Robbins threw himself at the runner. But Kendall leaped aside, spinning on a heel, and Robbins missed him badly. It was a second team forward who finally stopped Kendall after the latter had raced across four white lines. Amy observed Clint severely.
”Why that unholy smirk on your face?” he asked.